


In this Twilight, how Dare you Speak of Grace

by tigerlily_sunshine



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alpha Michael, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Beta Ashton, Bigotry & Prejudice, M/M, Multi, Omega Calum, Omega Luke, Rut, Rut Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7719796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlily_sunshine/pseuds/tigerlily_sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael wakes up one morning and thinks <i>Oh, no.</i></p><p>He has presented. He isn’t the beta he had hoped he would be. He has always known he would never be an omega—not with the build of his body and his inability to follow even the simplest of orders—but he had hoped for beta. Instead, he presents as alpha, and nobody wants to be an uncontrollable <i>alpha</i> with primal desires and a propensity for destroying everyone around them.</p><p>(In which Michael presents as an alpha in a society where alphas are feared and dangerous.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Mumford & Sons' "Broken Crown."

Michael wakes up one morning and thinks _Oh, no_.

He has presented. He isn’t the beta he had hoped he would be. He has always known he would never be an omega—not with the build of his body and his inability to follow even the simplest of orders—but he had hoped for beta. Instead, he presents as _alpha_ , and nobody wants to be an uncontrollable alpha with primal desires and a propensity for destroying everyone around them.

His rut hasn’t yet escalated to an unmanageable level. He still has his mind, which alphas always lose when they are in the throes of their ruts. He scrambles out of bed, ignoring the heat pooling in the pit of his belly. There are bigger things to be concerned with—namely the omega living across the apartment from him.

“Luke!” Michael calls. His voice is broken. He stumbles his way toward Luke’s bedroom, but he is so thirsty he has to stop by the kitchen sink and drink straight from the tap on his way there. “Luke! You need to leave!”

Luke doesn’t hear him, because, apparently, Luke is the world’s heaviest sleeper. Michael staggers his way to Luke’s room. He takes a deep breath before he throws open the door, and he uses whatever air he has in his lungs to speak. He is too terrified to take another breath when he is so close to an omega. Alphas aren’t known for their restraint. Michael doesn’t want to hurt Luke.

“Luke—Luke—you’ve got to leave! Now!” he gasps.

“Shu’p, Mike,” murmurs Luke. He doesn’t even bother opening his eyes. If he did, he wouldn’t be nearly as naively content as he is right now.  “’M sleeping.”

Michael grabs the collar of his t-shirt. He is already sweating through the fabric. It feels like a sauna wrapped around him. He wants nothing more to tear it off him, but he brings the collar of it up above his nose. The precaution is mostly useless. When he takes a breath, the sweet smell of _omega_ assaults his nose. He hardens in his boxers. He reaches back for the doorframe and grips it like his life depends on it. Right now, he would bet it does.

“I’ve presented. I’m an alpha. You’ve got to leave. _Now_.”

That gets Luke’s attention. Luke’s eyes fly open, and he meets Michael’s gaze across the room. He scrambles for the sheet to pull it up above his nose, but it is as useless as Michael’s t-shirt. Luke whimpers low in his throat.

“ _Mike_.”

The forbidden desire in Luke’s voice hits Michael like a punch to the gut. Michael tightens his grip on the doorframe. He digs the heels of his feet into the hardwood floor. Every fiber of his _alpha_ body is screaming at him to cross the threshold and knot Luke right here and now, but Michael refuses to move. He refuses to hurt his best friend.

He may be an alpha, but he refuses to be a monster.

“You need to go stay at Ashton’s,” says Michael. He is still speaking through his t-shirt, even if it is pointless. He doesn’t know what else to do—how else to dull the sweet, tantalizing scent of the omega across the room from him. “Get out of here. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What about you?” demands Luke, and there is just enough anger staining the tone of his voice that Michael knows it is the friend in Luke that is speaking and not the omega. “Who is going to make sure you don’t get hurt?”

“That doesn’t matter— _I’m_ the danger.”

It is ridiculous that they are even having this conversation right here, right now. Michael is in the beginning stages of his very first rut, and Luke is an unmated, sweet-smelling omega. Every moment they waste arguing over this petty issue—and it is petty, because nobody cares what happens to a monster—is another minute closer to Michael’s breaking point. They are losing precious time.

Michael refuses to hurt Luke. He needs to keep Luke safe. Luke _needs_ to leave—but Luke isn’t making a single move toward safety. He is just laying in his bed, sheet pulled up over his nose, staring Michael down. Michael hates how stubborn Luke can be. Sometimes, Michael wonders how the hell Luke presented as an omega. He is only slightly better than Michael at doing what people command of him.

“You’re the danger?” repeats Luke.

He has the gall to laugh, even though he took the very same sex education class as Michael back when they were in school. Though neither Luke nor Michael nor their band mates have ever come across an alpha in the flesh due both the rarity of alphas and the protection of the band’s security team, Michael knows that Luke has heard the horror stories of what alphas do. They have all heard them—how alphas _take_ , how alphas _break_ , how alphas _destroy_ everybody around them—and Michael doesn’t understand how an omega like Luke can laugh in the face of a monster like Michael.

“You submit any time Calum or Ashton or I tackle you. You completely fold whenever one of us gets even the tiniest bit mad at you. Last week when Calum knocked your favorite guitar to the floor and shattered the neck, you spent more time apologizing to him for leaning it against the couch in the first place! You’re not suddenly _dangerous_ now that you get a rut once a month instead of a heat.”

“You don’t know that!” screeches Michael.

Luke may not be scared, but Michael is terrified enough for the both of them. He doesn’t want to hurt Luke—precious Luke who is Michael’s best friend in the entire world—but he is an alpha. Everybody knows that is what alphas do. They hurt the ones they are supposed to love.  

“But I do,” says Luke, as calm and collected as if they are talking about who last watered the house plant that Ashton picked up somewhere outside of Arizona and gifted to the pair of them as a house-warming present. “You’re my best friend, and you won’t hurt me.”

“But I’m an alpha.”

“You haven’t entered my room yet, Mike,” says Luke, still as calm as ever. He smiles, his gaze darting to Michael’s hand then back up to meet Michael’s eyes. “You’re holding onto my doorframe so tightly I swear a hurricane could blow through here right now and it wouldn’t be able to tear you away. You are standing here in a rut arguing with me over whether or not you’re a monster, and, thus far, you haven’t done a single thing to prove that you are, in fact, the monster you claim you woke up as this morning.”

Michael bites his lips together. What Luke is saying is true, but that doesn’t mean that Michael likes the conclusion Luke has drawn. Michael _is_ dangerous. He is an alpha. Just because he hasn’t yet turned into the primal beast that alphas are known to be doesn’t mean that he won’t slip up and hurt Luke.

“I’m an omega,” continues Luke, after a moment in silence in which Michael does nothing except stare at him. “The alpha in you has to be itching for me—I certainly want to throw myself at your feet right now—but you’re beating back your instinct just like I am. You’re not hurting me.”

“But I could,” says Michael. Luke seems to forget that one important detail. “I just woke up as an alpha. We don’t know that this isn’t totally normal—that I’m not going to lose control of myself in the next five minutes and force you to submit to me.”

Luke smiles wryly at Michael like there is a joke somewhere between them that Michael doesn’t understand.

“Then why aren’t you now?”

“Because I can’t hurt you.”

“Exactly—you _can’t_ hurt me. Alpha or not, you’re still the same Michael that refused to let me join Ashton’s flag football team, because I could get hurt.”

“You trip over your own feet. Ashton was crazy asking if you wanted to take part in a sport where people all but tackle you for the sake of winning the game.”

“Fair enough,” shrugs Luke.

Truthfully, Luke hadn’t put up too much of a fight the first time around when Michael had outright told Luke he couldn’t join Ashton’s team. Luke had no desire to, heaven forbid, break his hand in some freak flag football accident and then not be able to play his guitar for months. Michael had fussed all over Ashton for being careless enough with Luke’s safety to even make such an irresponsible offer, and Ashton spent the next week apologizing profusely to Luke for even asking in the first place.

“What about the other day when Calum was sick with the flu, and you took him to the doctor and picked up his meds and practically waited on him hand and foot until he got to feeling better?” asks Luke.

“Calum was sick. I’d do the same thing for you and Ashton, and you’d three do the same for me,” answers Michael.

“But you wouldn’t let Ashton and me in the same room with him. You even made Ashton stay here while Calum was sick.”

“Because I didn’t want you two getting sick, too. You’re clingy when you get even the slightest tickle in your throat that may or may not develop into an outright cough. Ashton gets all withdrawn and moody and doesn’t want anybody to help him, let alone know he isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh, but it’s fine for you to get sick?” challenges Luke, and Michael starts to think that maybe Luke is driving some kind of point home. Michael just isn’t sure what that point is exactly. “You got pneumonia last year and proceeded to sing a week’s worth of concerts even though the doctors said that your lungs couldn’t handle it!”

“I don’t sing as much as you do. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I survived, didn’t I?”

Luke sighs, shaking his head like Michael is proving his argument.

“You stayed at Ashton’s for a week last month when Calum went to visit his sister.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want Ashton to be alone, and you were gone home, too, so I figured the two of us should stick together.”

“Mike, I left an entire four days before Calum did, and you didn’t care one bit that you were the one that was alone. Face it: you take care of the three of us—better than you do yourself, actually.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” responds Michael, dropping his gaze to the floor. It is a very un-alpha gesture, as alphas never, ever show signs of surrender and especially never to an omega. It doesn’t feel wrong like the textbooks say that it does for an alpha to show weakness. For Michael here with Luke, it feels like the most natural thing in the entire world.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” counters Luke. His voice is soft, much softer than it has been thus far, and he waits until Michael digs up the courage to feel worthy enough to return his gaze to Luke’s. When Michael does, Luke grins a thousand-watt smile. It looks like _home_ —like _pack_ —like _love_ , and Michael has to smile back. “You might have just presented this morning, but you’ve been an alpha your entire life. That’s who you are, and who you are is not a monster.”

Michael’s breath hitches. His eyes go wide, and in the pit of his stomach, he can feel his rut start to intensify. His hand trembles around the doorframe.

“I’m scared, Luke,” he admits.

It isn’t a phrase that should be in an alpha’s vocabulary, Michael knows. Alphas aren’t supposed to be able to feel fear. They aren’t supposed to be able to feel anything other than a desire for power and destruction. Michael doesn’t feel that. There isn’t room to feel that, not with all of the fear welling up in his chest.

“I don’t want to be an alpha. I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want to hurt you—or Ashton and Calum—but that’s what alphas do.”

“That isn’t what _you_ do, Michael Clifford,” says Luke, and he is still smiling, but it isn’t as bright as it was earlier. It is tamer. Sadder. Like he feels pity for Michael, which is ridiculous. Alphas aren’t supposed to be pitied. Alphas don’t care enough about other people to be pitied. “It is okay to be scared, but you don’t need to be. I’m going to take care of you, and I’m going to call Calum and Ashton, and they’re going to take care of you, too.”

“No!” gasps Michael, the fear in his chest turning ice cold and shooting straight through his heart. “You can’t. You can’t bring them here. That is the opposite of what needs to happen! You need to go to them until my rut has passed.”

“And do what? Watch mindless TV shows while I worry myself sick over you? Have you forgotten what ruts do to alphas? Why they drive unmated alphas to the point of primal insanity?” demands Luke.

“I can’t hurt you,” says Michael again, firm, but it isn’t the response that is appropriate for Luke’s questions. “I’ll be fine as long as you are safe at Ashton and Calum’s and they are there with you.”

Luke shakes his head, slowly, from left to right then back again. He stares open-mouthed at Michael like he is looking straight at the human embodiment of a bad idea. For a long moment, silence hangs stifling over the room between them. Michael fidgets underneath Luke’s wide-eyed gaze, even though an alpha is never supposed appear anything less than in control of the situation.

It hasn’t even been an hour yet, and Michael is already a terrible excuse of an alpha.

“You haven’t taken any suppressants. You don’t have one of those standard black bracelets that are supposed to keep alphas confined to their own homes during ruts. You haven’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday—yes, I do know that—so you’re liable to starve yourself to death within the first twenty-four hours,” says Luke, reciting what has to be the world’s worst laundry list of alpha-rut-preparedness.

“We’ve got protein bars. I swear I won’t starve,” says Michael. “You really need to go, like, _now_.”

Luke, of course, ignores him completely and continues his list as if Michael had never spoken a single word.

“I am going to take a gander and guess that you don’t actually have any type of toy that would trick your body into thinking that it is doing what it is designed to do, and, even for omegas in heat, there is only so much your own hand can do for you when you’re in a rut. Last, but not least, the entire apartment smells like _omega_ , which, combined with the whole no toy situation, means either that you might literally drive yourself insane over my smell or you might go out and do something you regret that will prove society right about how horrible alphas really are.”

“I get it,” says Michael, sighing. He hunches in on himself the best he can with one hand still firmly clasped around the doorframe and the other still holding the flimsy excuse of a shirt over his nose. Alphas don’t do this. They don’t make themselves smaller like Michael wants to do underneath Luke’s critical analysis of his shortcomings. “I’m a lousy alpha. You don’t have to lay it all out for me. You just need to leave so that I can’t hurt you, and then let me worry about everything else.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” snaps Luke.

He throws the sheet off his body, revealing his bare torso and legs, and Michael’s mouth waters at the sight. He stands up, drawing himself up to full height. Michael is an alpha, but Luke, the omega, towers over him, even from across the room.

“I love you, Michael, and so do Calum and Ashton, and if you think that we’re just going to sit around for the next three-to-five days wondering if I’m going to come back to this apartment to find that you’ve, like, gone insane from trying to—what did you call it?— _worry about everything else_ when we could take care of you instead, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I can’t hurt you—any of you,” says Michael. It’s a plea this time. “Just—just _go_ , okay? I’ll be fine.”

“Tell me you don’t want me,” challenges Luke, still standing by the bed.

“I’m an alpha in a rut. You’re an omega. Of course, I want you.”

“No, Michael. Tell me that you don’t still want to date me—to _mate_ me and spend the rest of your life by my side. Tell me that, and I swear I’ll back off.”

Michael bites his lips together. A spike of betrayal shoots right through his heart. He stumbles back away from the door, letting go of the frame all together. He drops his other hand to his side. Luke still smells just as sweet as he did with the t-shirt over Michael’s nose.

“I told you that in secret. I told all of you that I loved you in secret. You can’t use that against me.”

“What did we say, Michael? When you told us that you loved all of us, what did we say?”

Michael shakes his head. He curls even farther in on himself. He doesn’t want to rehash the most heart-breaking moment of his entire life. It isn’t fair that Luke is asking that of him. It isn’t fair that Luke is pouring salt into the wounds of Michael’s heart that still haven’t healed over, even now a year and a half later.

“When the last of us presented—when all of us knew for certain what we were—we would be in this together forever. Ashton presented first then Calum and then me. You’re the last of us. We can finally be together like we swore we would be.”

“But that was before we knew I was an alpha,” whispers Michael. He clenches is eyes shut against the tears that he feels welling up in them. He refuses to cry. Alphas don’t cry. “I can’t ask you or Calum or Ashton to hold to your word now. It’s dangerous.”

“It’s you. There is nothing dangerous about you, and between the three of us, I know we could handle you even if there was—which there _isn’t_. I love you. _We_ love you. Alpha or beta or omega, you swore you’d be ours when the time come. Here is that time.”

Luke pauses. He waits for Michael to opens his eyes again. After a long moment, Michael finally does. His red-rimmed eyes meet Luke’s wide ones, and Michael’s toes curl against the hardwood floor at his feet. Desire pools in his belly, but it is different than the primal heat of his rut. This is love, the type of love that Michael only feels for Luke and Calum and Ashton.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” says Luke. He braves a step forward with every word until he is face-to-face, toe-to-toe with Michael. His breath puffs against Michael’s lips when he speaks again. “Tell me you don’t want us.”

Michael draws in one last, surrendering breath that shudders all the way through him. He stares Luke straight in the eye, and for the first time since he woke up to a wild desire in the pit of his stomach and a knot threatening to form at the base of his dick, Michael doesn’t feel like the monster that has awoken inside of him. Here, underneath Luke’s gaze, Michael feels _love_ and nothing else.

“I want you and Ashton and Calum so much it scares me that I’m an alpha. I can’t hurt you—any of you.”

“Then let us take care of you. Let us show you that you shouldn’t be afraid of what you are.”

“You don’t even know that Calum and Ashton will still feel the same way one they know what I am. You don’t know they’ll still want me.”

“They will,” says Luke, and there is so much conviction in his voice that Michael believes him. “We didn’t fall in love with an alpha. We fell in love with you. Being alpha is a part of who you are—just like Calum and I are omegas and Ashton is a beta—so that’s how I know that they will still love you now that you’ve presented as alpha.”

 Luke is standing so close right now that all Michael has to do is lean in just a little bit for their lips to touch. It is thrilling, the feel of Luke so close to him, and the alpha part of him wants to pin Luke’s wrists above his head and force Luke to submit to him. Michael isn’t the alpha in him. All that he wants is to kiss Luke on the lips and never, ever hurt him.

The textbooks never said how thrilling the idea of a simple kiss could be to an alpha, even one in a rut. Michael hardly notices his rut right now with Luke pressed so close and the promise of Ashton and Calum’s love settling over him like a second skin. The beginnings of ruts are always flaky, though, and, sometimes, if an alpha ignores it for too long, the rut sets in too soon, and the alpha goes primal with need.

Michael can’t afford that.

“Let me call Calum and Ashton over, all right?” suggests Luke, as if he is reading the renewed fear in Michael’s eyes and maybe shares the same twinge of terror in his heart.

He leans down to nuzzle into Michael’s neck. It feels like heaven against Michael’s skin—like love and family and _pack_ all combined into one—and Michael goes weak at the knees for it. Luke shudders, too. He isn’t unaffected, but instead of feeding into the desire that buzzing between them, Luke steps back away from Michael. It takes a monumental effort for him to do so.

“They’ll be here in twenty minutes, tops, I swear. We can use that time to stock up on food and drinks, because we’re sure going to need it—and you, in particular, need to eat breakfast. I won’t have you collapsing from starvation during your first rut. It wouldn’t look good for an omega like me.”

He grins like it’s a good joke, and Michael is so surprised by Luke’s ability to act completely, one hundred percent normal that it startles a laugh out of him. Luke grins even wider as if he is proud of his own accomplishment. He throws one last wink at Michael, directing Michael toward the kitchen, as he retreats to his bedroom where he can use his phone to get a hold of Calum and Ashton.

Luke and Michael could go it alone, despite Michael’s paranoid fear of hurting Luke, but it wouldn’t be right. It is the four of them—Luke and Michael _and_ Ashton _and_ Calum—or none of them. Besides, it is Michael’s first rut. They all deserve to spend it together.

So Luke presses the phone to his ear, waits through the ringing, and says, before Ashton even has a chance to offer a _hello_ , “You and Calum had better get over here a-sap. Our alpha is in his first rut, and he needs us.”


	2. Chapter 2

Luke had promised Michael twenty minutes. Ashton and Calum show up forty-five minutes later. By that time, Luke has already made two plates of sandwiches, cut up three different types of vegetables for a tray, and put two types of soup into crock pots to warm until they are needed. He makes Michael’s favorite beef stew in one of the pots and a classic chili in the other. Maybe they can talk Ashton into making some grilled cheese sandwiches for their chili.

That is, of course, if Ashton ever shows up.

Michael grows increasingly restless. He is gradually moving from the beginning of his rut to the full-blown stage. Luke’s sweet omega scent, even all of the way across the kitchen, isn’t helping any. Michael is terrified that he is going to slip up at any moment, but any attempt to convince Luke to leave him alone with his rut in the apartment, despite the fact that Calum and Ashton are on their way over, goes in one ear and out the other. Luke shakes his head every time Michael tries to broach the subject—which is, on average, about every two and a half minutes—then returns to whatever it is he is doing to prepare for Michael’s rut.

Luke’s first preparation was to shove a plate of warmed left-overs from dinner night before last. The spaghetti is drier the second time around, but Michael chows down on it like a starving man, and, of course, that is sort of what he is in his rut. Luke was right earlier when he accused Michael of having not eaten all day.

When the spaghetti is gone and the dirty dishes are sent through the dish washer, Michael is left with nothing to do except sit calmly at the table while the heat of his rut builds in his body. Luke doesn’t let Michael help fix any of the last-minute foods that will need to sustain all of them for at least the next seventy-two hours when nobody, especially not Michael, will be able to leave the bed. Partially, Luke reasons that too much excitement will speed up the set in of Michael’s rut. More than that, though, Luke doesn’t trust that Michael won’t lock himself up alone in his room if he is allowed free movement of the apartment.

A knock on the door announces Calum and Ashton’s arrival. Luke glances at the clock. He had called nearly an hour prior. They should have been here at least thirty minutes ago and should already be taking care of Michael. Luke sighs to himself, annoyed, as he makes his way out of the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare move,” he says to Michael.

It isn’t a command, because omegas don’t _command_ anybody, much less an alpha. Luke knows Michael wouldn’t dare go against the direct order, not since it comes from Luke, the man he has been in love with since they were teenagers with a far-fetched, crazy dream.  As confirmation, Michael nods his head with a serious expression on his face. He fidgets in his seat—more than likely a product of his building rut instead of a forbidden desire to disobey Luke’s request—but doesn’t make a single move to stand up.

Luke offers Michael a quick smile before he disappears into the living room. As an alpha, Michael doesn’t need reassurances that he is being good. Likewise, as an omega, Luke isn’t expected to give said reassurances; however, Michael seems to let out a sigh of relief that he is pleasing Luke.

In the living room, Luke makes a bee line for the door. He throws it open. There on the doorstep stands Calum and Ashton, both with grocery bags in their hands. Luke growls low in his throat. He folds his arms across his chest, which is not a stance omegas usually adopt but desperate times call for desperate measures. Ashton and Calum deserve to know that Luke is unhappy with their tardiness.

“What the hell took you so damn long?” demands Luke. “I called you an hour ago.”

“We had to do a couple of things before we could come over,” answers Ashton. He speaks slowly as if Luke is a young child who doesn’t understand complicated words. He steps forward to enter the apartment, but Luke refuses to budge. “You going to let us in? You are the one who told us that our _alpha_ is in a rut.”

Luke ignores the last part of Ashton’s comment, focusing instead on the first bit. He glances down at the grocery bags clutched in Ashton’s first. The logo of the pharmacy down the street from Ashton and Calum’s apartment is distorted across the front of them. Luke feels another flare of anger dance in his chest. He glares at Ashton.

“Yes, Michael is in a rut, and you decided to take a shopping trip instead of rushing over here like you should have. I mean, what if it was later in his rut? Would you really want to miss it?”

“Did something happen? Are you hurt?” demands Ashton.

His face goes soft with worry like it does every single time someone he cares about stands in the face of danger. Nothing short of fear shines in his eyes as he looks Luke up and down. When he finds nothing out of the ordinary, he frowns. The worry retracts from his expression.

“I can handle him by myself, _thank you_ ,” snarls Luke. “Call me insane for thinking that you and Calum might want to be a part of it, too. We all made a promise.”

Ashton opens his mouth to retort. He isn’t given a chance. Calum steps forward to place himself between Luke and Ashton, unwilling to listen to them argue, especially with Michael in the other room. Michael can probably hear every single word. The acoustics in Luke and Michael’s apartment are amazing. It is part of the reason that they chose this one instead of the one much closer to Ashton and Calum’s place.

“We did,” says Calum, diplomatically. “I, for one, want to honor that, and Ashton does, too, even if he is being stubborn about it.”

“I’m being realistic,” says Ashton. A glint of wild desperation appears in his eyes like it only ever does whenever somebody that he cares about might get hurt. He waves around the shopping bags in his hand. “These are all for Michael—a bracelet to keep him safe, some last-minute suppressants for you two, and a registration card in case something goes wrong.”

Luke chews on his bottom lip, his eyes glued to the bags swinging from Ashton’s fingertips. He feels immediately guilty. He wants to trip over himself to apologize to Ashton, because he shouldn’t have been so cross with Ashton who always has their best interests in mind whenever he does literally anything in life.

But sometimes Ashton gets so wrapped up in doing the safest thing for those he loves that he forgets to do the right thing. In this instance, Luke isn’t completely convinced that stopping by the store and adding an additional half of an hour to his commute was the right thing to do. Calum and Luke have taken their regular suppressants every single day like clockwork since they presented. Between the three of them, they can keep Michael in check. Nothing is going to go wrong.

Ashton’s precautions are just that—cautionary. They aren’t reality. Chances are, none of them are necessary.

“He is in pain,” says Luke, finally, and his voice is much softer now. He deflates before Ashton and Calum, bearing his neck as a sign of apologetic submission. Betas don’t actually need the neck to accept that an omega has, indeed, submitted, but the gesture is ingrained in Luke’s biology. “I promised him it would only be another twenty minutes, but it was twice that. I lied to him.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” says Ashton, leaning over Calum’s shoulder to press a soft kiss to Luke’s cheek. “I should have let you know that we needed to make a stop before we came here.”

“Let’s take care of Michael, all right?” suggests Calum between them. “I can smell him from here, and I already want to drop my pants and present myself to him. So glad he’s an alpha.”

“Makes one of us,” says Michael, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Was shooting for beta myself.”

Luke whips around to face Michael, and Michael winces apologetically for disobeying Luke’s request to stay put. Luke doesn’t care about that right now. Michael is sweating all over. He is trembling, leaning against the doorframe to remain upright. Any moment, Michael’s knees are going to fail him, and he is going to fall straight to the floor, racked with the fervor of his rut.

“ _Fuck_ , _Michael_ ,” breathes Ashton. He slips around Calum so that he can go to Michael, crossing the room in three long steps. When he reaches Michael, he wraps his arms around Michael and hauls Michael to him. “Let’s get you to the bedroom. You’re worse off than I expected.”

Luke mutters a vicious _told you_ underneath his breath, because he is still a little upset with Ashton for taking so long to get here. The victory is empty, though, and Ashton appropriately ignores the jab, focusing instead on Michael trembling in his arms. He leads Michael away from the living room toward the nearest bedroom. It is Michael’s own bedroom, the door left open from his earlier haste to get Luke out of the apartment.

Once there, Ashton abandons the shopping bags on the floor then goes about stripping Michael of his clothes. They are soaking wet with his sweat, clinging to him like a second skin. Ashton leaves them a disorganized pile in the middle of the floor. Calum and Luke join them in the bedroom a moment later. Both of them already shoeless and shirtless. Ashton is overdressed.

Michael’s dick hangs hard and heavy between his legs, the brand new knot bulging ever-so-slightly from the base. Precome spills from the slit, making the red cockhead shiny. Michael smells like sex, like a tantalizing mixture of desire and need. Even Ashton feels the urge to bend over right now and demand Michael knot him—but Ashton beats back that desire. Betas aren’t built for knots.

Ashton reaches for one of the bags and digs inside of it. He pulls out a box of red pills, tossing it to Calum, who immediately rips into it. Calum takes one of the packet and passes another to Luke. They throw the pills back dry at the same time, both to eager for their impending release to care much for heading into the kitchen for water. It is only after Luke has choked down the red pill that he realizes the other shopping bag contained half of a dozen bottles of sports drinks.

The next thing Ashton pulls out from the bag is a thin black bracelet. Luke rolls his eyes at the sight of it, because it is the most unnecessary item Ashton wasted precious time to pick up. Ashton pointedly ignores Luke as he reaches for Michael’s left hand. Michael holds out his arm as requested, as easy for an order as an omega would be, and if that doesn’t prove just how needless the bracelet is in the first place, Luke doesn’t know what would.

“It’s just a safety precaution,” assures Ashton, and Luke has to force himself from adding the _for the rest of us_ that Ashton purposefully keeps to himself. It is evident enough from the tone of his voice alone. When he speaks again—and the bracelet is properly clasped around Michael’s wrist—his voice is much, much warmer. He smiles kindly at Michael, like he wants to wreck Michael and build him up at the same time. “We’re going to take good care of you.”

“Yes, we _are_ ,” says Calum, grinning devilishly.

He rips off his shirt and undoes his jeans as he advances toward Michael, his own omega hole slickening up at the delicious scent of _his_ alpha so near to him. He shoves his jeans down his thighs. He doesn’t bother with them anymore before he launches himself at Michael, and their lips crash together.

Michael catches him with the strength of an alpha. He feeds into Calum’s desire, the pull of his own rut building in him. He kisses Calum like his life depends on it. For an alpha about to please two omegas and a beta, Michael really does feel like his life depends on satisfying all of them. It is a bit overwhelming, the pressures of this rut, but Calum kisses Michael like he isn’t scared at all of Michael living up to all expectations.

Calum makes their kiss into a dance, shimmying the rest of the way out of his jeans then out of his boxers with Michael’s help and backing the pair of them to the bed. Alphas are supposed to be the ones in charge, not omegas, but Michael cedes his command, because he wants what Calum wants. The most important job of an alpha is to please their omega, and if Calum wants to move this horizontal, Michael will cater to that desire.

When they reach the bed, Michael spins them so that it is Calum who falls back on the mattress. Michael hovers over him, taking a second to himself to admire the beautiful view of Calum naked in front of him. Calum’s dick is hard, and slick glistens on his thighs. The scent of it tickles across Michael’s nose and fuels the rut building inside of him.

“Gonna knot you, Cal,” says Michael. He puts one knee on the bed between Calum’s legs. He shifts his weight to it then brings his other knee to rest on the outside of Calum’s thigh. He sits back on his feet, and grins down at Calum beneath him. “Gonna knot you real good.”

Before he can make good on his promise though, a warm, naked body presses up against his back. Michael knows it is Luke even without seeing Ashton join them on the bed. Luke is nice and soft against him. He smells deliciously like an omega Michael needs to please, and there is so much on which to concentrate that the intensifying build of his rut becomes the last thing on Michael’s mind.

People say that an alpha in rut goes crazy with lust. That an alpha in rut is feral and dangerous. That an alpha in rut loses control of themselves and gives over to animalistic desires without a care in the world for the wellbeing of others.

Michael wonders what kind of alphas these so-called people have met, because right now, even as he is so far into his rut that he should be as feral as these people say all alphas are, he can think of nothing other than pleasing his beta and omegas.

“Such a good alpha taking care of us in your rut,” murmurs Luke, his breath hot against Michael’s ear. “I bet even Ashton would spread his legs for you.”

Michael groans deep in his throat at the idea of fucking Ashton. Betas aren’t built for knots. They aren’t made to be taken care of, not like omegas are, but Michael wants nothing more than to take care of Ashton as much as Ashton will let him. The same so-called people who say alphas are dangerous in ruts are the same people who say alphas in ruts can’t please betas—that alphas are only concerned with popping their knots into a warm hole and nothing else. Michael is beginning to think these people are wrong. Right now, even in the thick of his rut, he wants to please Ashton, a beta, as much as he wants to please Luke and Calum.

Luke kisses his way down Michael’s neck, across his shoulder, then further down his arm. He leaves a trail of saliva behind in his wake. It glistens underneath the light above Michael’s bed. Michael shivers at the sensation of Luke’s hot tongue sliding along his already over heated skin. He wants nothing more than to whip right around and press Luke against the nearest surface and knot him into tomorrow.

He doesn’t. Mainly, because Ashton stops him with a single reminder.

“You can’t knot them yet, Mike. Their pills haven’t kicked in, and we all know that Luke is the worst at remembering to take his suppressants when he is supposed to, and Calum isn’t much better. You’re going to have to make do with me until they’re ready for a knot.”

Ashton is right, of course. Luke and Calum, as omegas, may be ready for Michael’s knot, but nobody wants an unplanned pregnancy, especially not with another world tour right around the corner. Michael goes hot all over at the idea of Luke and Calum being full of his child. He quickly pushes away the desire. He is getting far ahead of himself.

So Michael, with great reluctance, twists out of Luke’s hold. He crawls to the other side of Calum, joining Ashton. He takes charge of things like the alpha in him is meant to do. He reaches for Ashton, his hand cupping Ashton’s cheek. The black bracelet hangs loosely around his wrist, like a black flag warning of danger.

“I’m going to take real good care of you, Ash,” promises Michael.

The pupils of his eyes are dilated with lust, a product of the rut racking his body. His dick hangs heavy with a knot beginning to form at the base of it. Precome drips from the tip. It smears against Ashton’s bare thigh when Michael crawls forward to close the remaining distance between them.

Ashton swallows the spit gathering in his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing along his throat. Michael’s hand is like fire against his cheek. He presses even farther into Michael’s cupping hold, unable to stop the red-hot desire buzzing underneath his skin. He may be nothing more than an average beta who doesn’t have to worry about monthly heats or ruts, but betas experience sexual attraction in a manner that neither alphas nor omegas will ever understand. Ashton has never, ever felt such sexual desire course through his body as he does right now with the scent of Michael’s rut thick around him. It makes him want to part his legs just like Luke teased he would like to and beg Michael to take him right here, right now.

“You can’t knot me, Michael,” says Ashton. It is meant to be a warning. It doesn’t go over as one like he would have liked. His voice shakes with forbidden desire. Truthfully, he would like nothing more than Michael’s knot, but he isn’t built for it. Betas aren’t supposed to want knots. “You can’t.”

Michael leans forward and presses a soft, gentle kiss against Ashton’s lips. It is a fleeting thing but still miraculous. Alphas aren’t supposed to be gentle while in the height of their ruts. They aren’t meant to be anything other than primal, yet Michael kisses Ashton, the beta, like he is something precious—like he is something to be cherished even when an alpha is supposed to be the most dangerous.

Ashton’s head is spinning with contradictions. Michael is an alpha. Alphas are dangerous. They are feared. They are capable of nothing other than claiming an omega and destroying everything good in the world. It is hard to equate those truths with the reality before Ashton. Michael has never been any of those things. He isn’t dangerous or feared or destructive. He is kind, caring, and loving.

Not for the first time since Luke called an hour ago does Ashton wonder how the hell a beautiful, precious soul like Michael could be a scary, monstrous alpha.

“’M not going to knot you,” says Michael. It sounds like an oath. Conviction shines in his sex-blown eyes. In the middle of his rut, it is extremely more important that Ashton understands Michael’s sincerity. He presses another quick kiss to Ashton’s lips. This time, he mostly misses, and his lips land on the corner of Ashton’s. He speaks again with his lips pressed against Ashton’s skin, like he can bury the words safely there. “You’re going to open me up, and you’re going to fuck me.”

Ashton’s breath hitches. Alphas aren’t supposed to bottom, not even for a beta who doesn’t need an alpha’s knot. Michael whispers his next words too quietly for anybody other than Ashton to overhear them.

“It’s safer. I don’t trust myself not to knot you right now, but I’m still going to take very good care of you.”

There is something about Ashton that has always made Michael feel the need to be completely, one hundred percent candid. Maybe it is how, as a beta, Ashton has always seemed to have this aura about him that he had everything under control. He doesn’t turn into a scary, uncontrollable monster once a month like alphas do. He is just plain and simple has everything together in his life like a beta usually does. It is something that Michael, as an alpha, envies.

“We’re supposed to be taking care of you,” says Ashton.

They are. Michael is the one in a rut right now. Michael is the one who stands to lose his mind if they aren’t careful. Ashton is just a beta. Sex is just that for him—sex. He likes it. He thinks he would like it with Michael and Calum and Luke even more. His life, though, doesn’t depend on it.

“You are,” says Michael. “I want to make sure that you get taken care of. I swear, that’s all I want.”

“It’s not going to be all you’re going to want later,” says Ashton.

“No,” agrees Michael, shaking his head. He glances over at Luke and Calum, who have taken to lazily making out while they wait on their pills to kick in. It is a delicious sight. Michael licks his lips. He wants to pop his knot right now. He doesn’t. He turns back to Ashton instead. “But you’ll have your head about you, and the last thing I want to do is to hurt Luke or Calum.”

Michael ducks in for another kiss, his lips crashing against Ashton’s. Desire pools hot in Michael’s belly. He can smell Luke’s and Calum’s omega scents thick in the air of the room. It licks across Michael’s nose, and he has to bury his face in Ashton’s neck to breathe in the raw scent of beta. It isn’t enough to mask the omega scent—not enough to quench the powerful, primal desire that sweeps through Michael’s body – but neither Luke nor Calum are ready for his knot. He has to make do with Ashton.

“Ash—Ash, I need you,” gasps Michael. It is true. He needs Ashton more than he has ever needed another human being—except the truth is that he needs Luke and Calum, the omegas, even more right now. “I—I—I can’t—”

Michael is a mess of babbles. His nose is pressed flat against Ashton’s neck, but he can still smell the sweet omega scents of Luke and Calum. Ashton seems to understand the desire skimming underneath Michael’s skin, Maybe it is in the way that Michael trembles against him. Or maybe it is the way that Michael clings to him despite the almost overwhelming desire for Luke and Calum.

Ashton flips them over so that Michael is on his back and Ashton is lording over him. Michael breathes in a deep lungful of unfiltered air, the scent of omegas nearly driving him insane. Desire wells up in his chest. He drops his hands to the bed, curling his fists in the sheets to keep from launching himself across the bed and forcing himself on two omegas who aren’t ready for him. Michael isn’t a monster. He isn’t, so he begs Ashton to get him ready.

“Please, Ashton, I need you,” he begs, mostly incoherently.

His brain is so full of desire that he can hardly concentrate on anything that isn’t the sweet smell of omega thick in the room. He tries. He tries so hard that his hands ache around the sheets, and Ashton still isn’t moving. Michael descends into a babbling mess of Ashton’s name.

“Gonna let me take care of you, Mike?” murmurs Ashton.

Michael nods his head, desperate. His entire body feels like it is on fire. Finally— _finally_ —Ashton moves. He runs his hand down Michael’s torso, all the way down to his cock, where, at the base, Michael’s knot is already starting to form from the smell of arousal in the room alone. Michael shudders underneath Ashton’s touch. He is hungry for more.

Ashton gives him more. He ghosts his fingers across Michael’s cock. Michael gasps, shuddering against the sensation. Ashton gins, devilishly. He runs his fingers even lower until they press against Michael’s hole.

Michael jumps, startled, and the traitorous alpha side of him cringes against the sensation. He feels open and vulnerable and raw before Ashton, and Ashton hasn’t even done anything other than ghost his fingers over Michael’s hole. The alpha in Michael thrashes around inside of Michael’s mind, but Michael ignores the voice yelling at him that this isn’t right. That this  doesn’t feel good—but it does. It feels heavenly. Michael has always loved Ashton’s touch and now is no different, despite his alphaness.

Ashton reaches for the lube, because Michael isn’t an omega, and he doesn’t produce slick. Ashton clicks open the bottle and squirts a generous amount onto his fingers. He rubs his fingers together to warm the lube, but Michael still jumps at the sensation when Ashton’s fingers return to his hole. Michael knows that he needs to relax. He does. Or this is going to hurt, and this shouldn’t hurt.

The problem, though, is that the alpha inside of Michael wants to throw Ashton off him. The alpha inside of Michael fights to take control and pin Ashton down to the bed. Michael resists the urge. This is Ashton, a beta. Even as  a monstrous alpha, Michael can’t demand Ashton submit to him.

Ashton is gentle with Michael in all of the ways that nobody ever is with alphas. Ashton take his sweet time pressing his slick fingers into Michael’s hole, readying Michael to take his cock. Michael writhes underneath him, the intimacy of Ashton’s touch drowns the feeling of wrongness that the alpha inside of him is raging against. Michael gives himself away to the pleasure, and Ashton takes care to open him up.

“Gonna take care of me, right?” murmurs Ashton.

He leans up to press a kiss to the base of Michael’s neck. Michael trembles against him as he nods his assent. He will be good. He bows his head to try to chase after Ashton’s lips in a kiss. The alpha inside of him rattles in its cages. It wants to throw Ashton off him and put Ashton in his place, but Michael ignores that ugly, monstrous demand. Ashton makes Michael feel good, despite the burning sensation underneath his skin that an alpha shouldn’t like what Ashton is doing to him even though Michael does.

“Ashton—Ashton— _please_ ,” begs Michael, like alphas are not supposed to be able to do.

Ashton heeds Michaels request as if it were an order. He removes his fingers from Michael and Michael whines, but Ashton shushes him with a brief press of his lips against Michael’s as he reaches for the condom. He sets back on his knees, resting his butt on his feet, and rips open the condom. He rolls it down his cock, slicks on more lube, and readies himself at Michael’s hole.

Ashton pauses only for the length of a second, and Michael’s eyes meet his in the space between the beats of time. The alpha inside of Michael rages hot, uncomfortable in the way that all alphas are supposed to be with being so vulnerable to another person—with being _submissive_ to a beta. But Ashton presses forward before Michael can bow to the alpha inside of him and throw Ashton off him, and Michael cries out.

Ashton stops immediately, worry erupting on his face.

“Don’t—” stutters Michael. “ _Don’t stop_.”

So Ashton doesn’t. He presses forward until he can’t anymore, and he pauses there, letting Michael get used to the feel of Ashton inside of him. It is an odd sensation. An alpha isn’t made to be filled. There is a loud voice in Michael’s mind protesting the invasion of his alpha body, but Michael pushes aside that voice. The truth is, despite how _wrong_ it feels with his new presentation, it feels amazing to be underneath Ashton.

It feels even better when Ashton finally— _finally_ —starts to move. He pulls back, nearly completely out of Michael, and then slams back in, settling into a pace that makes Michael’s toes curl. Stars dance in Michael’s vision as Ashton rubs against Michael’s prostate, and the alpha voice in his mind dies for a few moments as Michael loses himself to how good this feels and how good he is making Ashton feel.

Ashton bends himself over Michael’s body. He presses his mouth right up against the side of Michael’s neck. His breath is loud pants in Michael’s ear. His lips brush against Michael’s skin, sensitive near his bonding spot. 

“Taking such good care of me,” grunts Ashton, voice low and gravelly. “Such a good alpha. Gonna take good care of Luke and Calum, too, aren’t you? Just look at them. They can’t wait for their _alpha._ ”

Ashton’s words spread fire across Michael’s skin. Desire rages in the pit of Michael’s belly, and his knot threatens to pop right here with nothing around it and a beta’s cock filling him up. Michael pushes back the urge to give over to his primal desires, knowing in the depths of his mind that he is only delaying the inevitable—knowing that he will soon pop his knot like a monstrous alpha needs to do.

That moment isn’t now. Michael bucks against Ashton. It isn’t an attempt to usurp control but rather to urge Ashton to go faster. Ashton does, picking up the pace until Michael’s breaths become gasps and Ashton’s become grunts.

Michael lets his head loll to the side, his cheek resting against the pillow, and he is treated to the delicious sight of Calum and Luke rutting against each other, their lips locked together in an endless kiss. Their omega scents tangle together and dance across Michael’s nose. The alpha inside of Michael rages with the desire to claim his omegas, but Michael needs to take care of Ashton—of _his beta_ —first.

“C’mon, Ash,” commands Michael. Alpha commands don’t work on betas, of course, not like they do on omegas, but Michael isn’t telling Ashton to do something that Ashton doesn’t want to. Michael is only commanding Ashton to let go of everything. “Stop holding back.”

Ashton whines low in his throat. He chokes on his next breath, tears springing to his eyes as he fights against the urge to do just that—to pound into Michael’s body like an alpha isn’t built to handle. Michael isn’t supposed to be able to take Ashton in this manner right now, not as an alpha in a rut. Ashton can’t push their luck, not when Michael feels this good around Ashton’s cock. Not when a tiny part of Ashton is still wary of the alpha born inside of Michael.

“You need Calum and Luke now,” says Ashton. His voice is broken. His words come out thin in the spaces between his grunts, because as much as he knows that Michael _needs_ an omega right now, he doesn’t want to stop. “I can’t do for you what you need, and it’s been long enough for their pills to have kicked in.”

The rational part of Ashton believes in his words. The rational part of Ashton knows he has to stop, but it still takes a monumental effort to halt in the next thrust. Michael is still forbiddingly tight around him. It feels like a sin to stop right now, but Ashton promised to take care of Michael. Part of taking care of Michael is pushing aside Ashton’s own needs.

Ashton goes to pull out, but Michael has other ideas. He grabs Ashton’s wrist, stopping him. He looks Ashton straight in the eyes, pupils blown and eyes wide with desire.

“Finish, dammit.”

“Mike—”

Michael shakes his head. He knows what Ashton is going to say. Betas aren’t supposed to come in alphas. Alphas aren’t supposed to want it, but he does. Dammit. He wants Ashton to come in him more than he wants to stop.

“Supposed to take care of you, aren’t I?” asks Michael, as cheeky as he can manage with Ashton’s cock buried deep inside of him.

Ashton draws in a shaky breath, fighting with himself over how to answer. Michael as an _alpha_ isn’t technically supposed to take care of a _beta_ like Ashton, but Ashton is a packaged deal with Calum and Luke—the four of them decided it ages ago. In reality, Michael _is_ supposed to take care of Ashton.

Yet, Michael’s rut is more important than an age-old pact. No matter how much Ashton wants to finish inside of Michael, the truth is that Michael needs an omega right now. Ashton can always make do with his own hand or maybe even with whoever between Calum and Luke Michael takes second.

Ashton should say all of this. He should, because he should do the right thing. He doesn’t. Michael speaks up first, already ignoring the half-baked argument Ashton is cooking up.

“Then Luke come over here,” commands Michael, because Luke has been living with Michael’s alpha scent for longer. Luke should be first. He was the one who made sure Ashton and Calum got here to take care of Michael. “Ashton, don’t you fucking dare stop.”

Ashton, as commanded, doesn’t stop. He pulls out slowly, like he is going to disobey Michael’s request after all, but, at the last second, he thrusts just as slowly back in, as if he is testing the waters. As if he is unsure but willing to do what Michael—what _his_ alpha—wants anyway.

But Luke, an omega, doesn’t obey his command.

“Take Cal first,” says Luke.

His voice is broken, probably from the pheromones thick in the air. When Michael looks up, Luke’s eyes are wide.  His lips are kiss-swollen red and shiny with spit, both his own and Calum’s, and they are parted, gaping. Michael’s stomach lurches for no reason other the alpha inside of him stunned that an omega resisted such a command.

“Luke—” says Michael in an attempt to argue.

“ _Please_ , Mike,” begs Luke. “Take Cal first.”

The alpha inside of Michael rages once more, but Michael has gotten good at ignoring the primal, monstrous voice in the back of his mind. If Luke wants Calum to go first, Michael will take Calum first. It doesn’t really matter the order, anyway. Michael is an alpha in a rut. He is going to take both Calum and Luke numerous times before the night is up. Maybe Luke is just anxious about the pressure of being Michael’s first.

“C’mere, Cal,” says Michael, bowing to defeat.

Calum kisses Luke once more, probably as a silent _thank you_ for ceding the chance to be knotted within the next five minutes. Calum has always been a shameless omega, even back when nobody except Calum and Ashton had presented. He loves obeying commands, and he loves the idea of an alpha, and Michael knows he loves the idea of Michael as an alpha best out of all of them.

Ashton pulls out and thrusts forward again, keeping an agonizing pace that has Michael’s toes curling as the _need_ in his belly grows hot with desire. Calum clambers over to Michael, leaning down to kiss Michael’s lips as he settles over Michael’s stomach. Slick drips out of Calum’s hole, ready as an omega to take his alpha, and Michael nearly pops his knot at the sensation. He doesn’t. He kisses Calum instead while he helps to maneuver Calum onto his cock.

Calum sinks down in one fell swoop, his hole swallowing up Michael’s cock quicker than it takes for Michael to draw in a startled breath. It is all too much, how wet and hot and _tight_ Calum is around Michael’s cock. Michael’s body is made to join with Calum’s. The alpha inside of him is finally silenced as it is satisfied at last. His knot begins to thicken at the base of his cock, catching on Calum’s rim.

Michael’s hands tremble around Calum’s waist. He guides Calum up and down his cock, though Calum doesn’t need the help. The alpha inside of Michael needs to feel like he is in control. Michael himself knows better. He knows that Calum is one in charge here—that if Calum were to say stop, Michael would in a heartbeat.

Ashton speeds up his lazy pace, matching Calum’s stride so that Michael is simultaneously fucking up into Calum and being fucked by Ashton. The moment is perfect. The alpha inside of Michael is satisfied, and Michael wants the entire world to stop turning right this instance just so he doesn’t have to know what it feels like to live beyond such a beautiful perfection, his body connected with Ashton’s and Calum’s. A perfect puzzle falling into place.

Except there is an emptiness in the pit of Michael’s stomach, and Michael reaches for Luke before he even realizes that such an emptiness exists. His trembling hand finds Luke’s clammy one. The first touch, Michael _finally_ connected with the three people he loves most in the world—with the three people that the alpha inside of Michael’s calls his pack even if the four of them together are not ready for such a commitment—sends fire dancing across Michael’s skin.

Michael pulls Luke to him, and he crashes their lips together. It is this feeling of all of them together—of Ashton’s cock deep inside of Michael and Calum’s rim catching around Michael’s knot and Luke’s lips pressed against Michael’s own—that tips Michael over the edge. He spills inside of Calum, his knot trapping Calum on his cock and forcing his come up into Calum.

Ashton follows quickly thereafter, Michael clenching around him. The alpha inside of Michael flinches at the sensation of a beta coming inside of him, but, in Michael’s orgasmic haze, it only makes Michael come even harder inside of Calum. Ashton doesn’t last as long as Michael does, because betas never do, but Ashton stays seated in Michael as he catches his breath.

It isn’t fair that Calum hasn’t yet come. The alpha inside of Michael is desperate to take care of the omega, so Michael reaches for Calum’s cock and strokes it twice before Calum spills onto Michael’s stomach, dirtying him. Calum collapses down onto Michael, knocking Luke aside to the bed. Michael’s free arm—the one that isn’t already holding Luke next to him—wraps around Calum’s shoulders.

Michael has never done this before, of course, but he has heard everybody say how vulnerable omegas get after an orgasm with their alpha’s cock still buried inside of them. Even if Michael hadn’t heard the stories, he can feel how vulnerable Calum is right now. Calum, who trembles against Michael, nuzzles underneath Michael’s chin and presses his nose to the bonding spot on Michael’s neck. They aren’t bonded, but that is the spot where Michael smells most like an alpha, and that is calming to Calum, soothing in the way that Michael’s arm around him is as well.

Ashton pulls out of Michael a moment later. Michael winces at the soreness, but the alpha inside of him cheers that Ashton is gone. Michael wants to kiss Ashton, but, with an armful of Calum, there isn’t room for Ashton, too. Michael settles for smiling fondly up at Ashton. He hopes that it conveys all of the love Michael feels for the beta. By the way that Ashton smiles back, Michael thinks that it does.

Michael is still coming inside of Calum, though not as much or as often as he was. His knot won’t go down for a little while longer. Michael isn’t exactly sure how long, since this is his first time. The alpha inside of Michael is pacified with Calum trapped on his knot, but Michael’s rut hasn’t yet abated. The alpha won’t be sated long, not this time, and he will need Luke almost as soon as his knot deflates enough for Calum to slide off.

Ashton seems to sense, or maybe smell, the unwavering strength of Michael’s rut, so he takes it upon himself to ready Luke. The alpha inside of Michael, for once, doesn’t rally against Ashton’s actions. Even it knows that, though Luke is an omega, Luke isn’t like Calum. He is almost as brand new in his presentation as Michael is, and he requires a little more tender care than Calum can handle.

Besides, Luke was hesitant enough earlier to insist that Calum be first. He probably needs Ashton’s build up before he takes Michael’s knot.

“Turn over on your belly, Lukey,” requests Ashton. He is a little sluggish in his post-orgasmic haze, but he does his best to maneuver around Michael and Calum to get to Luke. “’M gonna eat you out then Mike’s gonna take really good care of you and knot you.”

 Luke hesitates but only for a split second. It is an almost imperceptible thing, except Luke is pressed flush against Michael’s side, and Michael feels the way that Luke stiffens up at Ashton’s words. Omegas typically like the feel of a wet hot tongue against their slick entrance. Maybe Luke is still anxious.

“Kiss me,” commands Michael, turning his head so that he can press his lips against Luke’s once more. “Ash was right. ‘M gonna take really good care of you in a few minutes.”

“Mikey’s the best,” murmurs Calum, blissed out and vulnerable in Michael’s arms with his hole still tight around Michael’s knot. “You’re gonna love it, Lukey.”

The alpha inside of Michael preens at Calum’s words as Michael gently presses his lips against Luke’s. He knows that Luke likes soft, slow kisses when he is nervous or scared or in need of love. That is how Luke kisses the best, so that is how Michael plans to kiss him until he isn’t scared anymore and he is ready for Michael’s knot.

Except Michael freezes at Ashton’s startled words, and the entire world flips upside down.

“Luke, you’re not wet.”


	3. Chapter 3

Michael smells it, how thin the scent of omega is in the air. Calum is mostly overwhelmed by Michael’s alpha scent, but that still doesn’t account for how faint the scent of omega is. It should still be potent, because Luke has not yet been knotted.

But it isn’t.

The alpha inside of Michael rages once more, and the drive of Michael’s rut wanes. He feels sick at his stomach. He had misread his inner alpha moments earlier when Luke had begged Michael to take Calum first. Michael had thought his inner alpha was unhappy with an omega disobey an order, but that wasn’t it. The alpha inside of him had sensed something was wrong. It knew Luke wasn’t wet, though Luke should have been. Michael didn’t listen to his inner alpha’s warning.

“We can stop,” says Michael.

Though, in reality, he knows that _he_ can’t. _Luke_ can, but this is Michael’s rut. As much as Michael’s rut has waned in the wake of the realization that Luke isn’t wet—that Luke isn’t enjoying this in a manner that an omega should—Michael knows it is only a temporary setback. His rut will come back with a vengeance the moment the alpha inside of him has taken care of Luke, and Michael will be sentenced to a sexual haze for the duration of his rut.

Michael will be damned if he forces Luke into something Luke doesn’t want. Or, rather, if he forces Luke into something Luke’s body isn’t ready for. Michael may be an alpha, but he isn’t a monster.

“I’ll be fine by myself.”

“No,” snaps Luke. He glares at Michael, offended that Michael has even suggested such a thing. “We promised we’d all take care of you, and that includes me.”

“But you’re not wet,” says Michael, quietly. The alpha inside of him flinches, either at the challenging tone of Luke’s voice or at Michael’s own words, Michael isn’t sure. “I won’t think any less of you for not wanting this. I won’t force you to take my knot, either. I’m not a monster.”

Luke flushes, the fight leaving him. He turns his head away from Michael, resting his other cheek on the sheets. Michael is pinned to the bed by Calum’s body weight, his cock still buried deep inside of Calum and his knot still holding them together, so Michael can’t see Luke’s face anymore, but Luke’s blush reaches the back of his neck. The alpha inside of Michael howls in anguish.

“I want this,” says Luke. “I want to be wet, and I want you to knot me. I swear, I do.”

The truth is that Michael doesn’t have a reason to not believe Luke. He doesn’t, because Luke was the one who got Calum and Ashton to come over. Luke was the one who insisted he help Michael with his rut. Everything Luke has done thus far belies how much he wants Michael—except he isn’t wet. Omegas are always wet when they are sexually aroused, especially with the scent of an alpha’s rut as thick in the air like Michael’s is right now.

“Luke—”

“I can still be a good omega,” says Luke. He dares to look Michael in the eyes once more, and his own eyes glint with wild determination that makes Michael’s heart skip a terrifying beat in his chest. “I can. I just—I need lube.”

“You don’t have to take care of my rut to be a good omega,” says Michael. “It isn’t your job in life to please me when you aren’t getting off on it, too.”

“But I am!” cries Luke. “I swear, I am! I’m just—I’m not producing slick.”

“Luke—” tries Ashton this time, but he has no more luck than Michael.

“Look, I’m hard, don’t you see?” interrupts Luke.

Michael glances down. Luke’s dick is, in fact, hard. If it weren’t for the fact that Luke has had his first heat and then a few beyond that, Michael might think Luke were a beta instead of an omega. Michael’s mind is a trap of contrasting truths. Luke still smells faintly like an omega, his scent diluted. He isn’t producing slick that omegas should, but he doesn’t want to stop.

“Why aren’t you wet?” asks Ashton.

It isn’t an accusation. Ashton’s voice is too broken for it to be anything other than unfathomable curiosity. His hands tremble in his lap, belying how much he wants to reach out and pull Luke to him, because Luke looks small and scared with a hard dick and a dry hole. Ashton resists. Perhaps because Luke looks so frail before him that he might shatter into a hundred pieces underneath one wrong touch.

“I—I don’t know,” says Luke. It is almost like a plea. He looks from Ashton to Michael and back again as if to show how genuine he is being—as if to convince them to believe him. “It might be my pills. Sometimes, they do that.”

“Rarely,” says Ashton, faintly.

“But sometimes,” insists Luke, half-delirious. He turns to Michael, his eyes wide and shining with tears. “Please, I can be a good omega.”

“You already are a good omega,” says Michael, automatically.

Luke’s insistence is like a kick to the gut. Michael tightens his hold around Calum, and he reaches out to pull Luke to him with his free hand. Luke goes easily, a submissive omega under the guide of an alpha. Michael presses a kiss to Luke’s temple, and he blinks against the burning tears that threaten to spill over his lashes. He won’t cry. Alphas don’t cry.

Except Luke thinks he isn’t a good omega just because he can’t produce slick, and Michael doesn’t think Luke believes him that Luke _already is_ a good omega, and there is little more heartbreaking than the note of self-loathing loud in Luke’s plea. So maybe Michael wants to cry anyway, despite the fact that alphas never do. He won’t let himself—he is an alpha and he is supposed to be the strong one—but the tears burn his eyes anyway.

Luke nuzzles underneath Michael’s chin, right next to Calum, so that he can breathe Michael in. Luke is as vulnerable as Calum is right now. He needs Michael in the way that omegas only ever need alphas. The alpha inside of Michael howls in agony over Luke. It is confused and fearful, and it only wants Luke whole and happy, and Michael isn’t sure how to accomplish that.

“You are already so good for me,” murmurs Michael, his lips still pressed against Luke’s skin. He wishes he could imprint his words onto Luke so that Luke would never, ever be as desperate as he is now, clinging to Michael like he is terrified of being alone. “You are so, so good.”

“The best,” agrees Ashton.

Finally— _finally_ —Ashton stops holding himself back. Truthfully, Michael is amazed that Ashton lasted so long without touching Luke, but Ashton certainly makes up for lost time. He reaches for Luke again, getting up on his knees to bracket his body over Luke. He kisses Luke’s shoulder, the closest spot to Luke’s face that he can reach with Luke hiding away in Michael’s neck.

Michael pushes away the selfish urge to pull Luke away from Ashton’s beta touch. Luke may be every bit as vulnerable as an omega can ever be, and he may need the alpha that Michael is to protect him and make him feel safe, but he needs Ashton, too. Betas are just as capable of protecting omegas as alphas are.

There are many reasons that omegas shack up with betas more often than they do with alphas. Mainly, it is for the mere fact that alphas are monsters. Betas offer a safe alternative in a world where advances in technology and medicine have eliminated an omega’s dependency on an alpha.

Somewhere down deep inside of Michael, in the tiny corner of his brain that isn’t reeling from his rut and isn’t consumed by the sweet smell of omega in the room, he knows that the only reason he even agreed to take Luke to bed, despite being otherwise wholly unprepared for a rut, is that Luke had come with a packaged deal of Calum and, most importantly, Ashton, a beta. Michael trusts Ashton more than he trusts himself with Calum and Luke right now, even though he has mostly kept his wits about him thus far. He knows that he could slip up at any moment.

It is an alpha’s nature to be dangerous. That is what everybody says, and that is what Michael believes. He has been so terrified of hurting Luke and Calum this entire time that he hasn’t dared unleash the alpha inside of him more than is absolutely necessary to carry his body through his rut. The problem is that he can be strong for so long. If that moment comes—if Michael’s strength gives away to weakness—he knows that Ashton will be here to control Michael and, most importantly, to protect Luke and Calum.

So Michael ignores the rush of selfishness that burns in his chest. He lets Ashton drape his body of Luke. Ashton cares just as much about Luke as Michael does. He wouldn’t dare hurt Luke. He also wouldn’t steal Luke away from Michael unless he absolutely had to for Luke’s own safety.

“Michael can’t knot you, though,” adds Ashton, a moment later.

Luke whines, deep in his throat. It is a sad cry that screams to the alpha inside of Michael, and, for once, the alpha doesn’t rage. It cries in tune with Luke. Michael himself draws in a ragged breath.

Everybody says that once an alpha is in a rut, he is consumed by it. He can’t think of anything beyond his own release. He becomes animalistic. Dangerous. Uncontrollable. Insatiable. That is why alphas are so feared. That is why alphas can’t be trusted. That is why nobody wants to be an alpha.

But Michael doesn’t know who these everybody are. He doesn’t, because right now, his body is still hot with his rut and his knot is still buried deep inside of Calum, but the last thing he wants is to knot another omega. He would much rather take care of his omegas and of his beta and let the rest of rut run its course in a feverish state of care—if only he could be so lucky.

“Ash is right,” murmurs Michael.

Luke whines again into Michael’s neck. It is the cry of an omega disappointing an alpha, but Michael is far from disappointed. There is nothing in this world that Luke—or Calum or Ashton—could do to disappoint Michael, much less something that nobody can control. It isn’t Luke’s fault he isn’t wet, because, by all other accounts, he is interested in the sex. His body just isn’t up for it.

“I won’t knot you, but I will take care of you, my beautiful omega,” promises Michael.

“But I want your knot. I swear I do,” says Luke. His words are all muffled, because his mouth is pressed flush against Michael’s skin, but they are coherent enough. “Please, knot me.”

The alpha inside of Michael recoils at the idea of knotting an omega who isn’t ready for him. Michael is supposed to take care of Luke, not hurt him. Luke isn’t wet. Michael isn’t even sure that all of the lube in the world would prepare Luke for a knot, and Michael doesn’t dare risk it. Neither does the alpha inside of Michael, as the drive of Michael’s rut abates with every trembling breath Luke draws in.

“Not tonight, Luke,” says Michael, gently.

“But your—your rut!”

“It’s better now, because of Calum and Ashton and you.”

It is the truth. The alpha inside of Michael is quiet, solemn in the face of Luke’s state. His knot is beginning to deflate inside of Calum, and, his cock spent, his body is satisfied. Michael only wants to hold Calum and Luke safe in his arms and never, ever let go. He prays the alpha inside of him will be satisfied with only Calum and that his rut will be easy this time in a way everybody claims no rut ever is. He knows it won’t be, though, so he hopes that Calum will be enough to satisfied his knot. He hopes that his rut will hold off long enough for him to please Luke.

“You took care of me like you said you would. All of you did,” says Michael. “Now, let me take care of you.”

Michael kisses the top of Luke’s head and then the top of Calum’s too. His knot has gone down enough that his cock slips out of Calum. A trickle of cum mixed with slick chases after him. The alpha inside of Michael preens with pride. Calum is going to smell like Michael for days now, or maybe even weeks. Michael likes that. The alpha inside of Michael likes that even more. Michael tries to ignore how Luke won’t smell like him for days like Calum will, and the alpha inside of him seems fine with pretending that tiny detail doesn’t matter to it, either.

“Go to Ash, okay, Cal?” requests Michael.

It isn’t a command, because Calum is too vulnerable right now for a command. He couldn’t handle it. Sometimes, omegas get so overwhelmed with commands that their bodies begin to shut down. It is one of the reasons alphas are so dangerous. They hold so much power over an omega’s state of being. Everybody says alphas can’t handle that power. They can’t be trusted with that power. Alphas only take and break and destroy people.

But Michael can’t imagine a scenario in which he, himself, would be anything less than loving and devoted to Calum. Michael wants to mate Calum. He wants to build a home with Calum and with Luke and with Ashton. Michael doesn’t want to take Calum for granted. He wants to be careful with Calum, because Calum is precious and Calum has been so good taking Michael’s knot that Michael doesn’t want to push him too far over the edge with a thoughtless command.

“You’ve been so good for me. ‘M gonna take care of Lukey, and then we’re all going to cuddle. Does that sound good?”

Calum hums, craning his neck to smile up at Michael. He presses a sloppy kiss against Michael’s jaw. Michael wants to kiss Calum for real, but he passes Calum off to Ashton instead. Ashton rolls to the other side of the bed, still within reach of Luke and Michael but far enough away to give them room for themselves. Calum curls into Ashton’s arms just like he had in Michael’s, and the alpha inside of Michael rears its ugly, jealous head once more, but Michael beats it back.

The alpha inside of him might not like the way that Calum looks burrowed in Ashton’s loving arms, but Michael does. Michael knows that Ashton will take care of Calum while Michael can’t. Ashton is a beta. He won’t hurt Calum.

Michael turns his attention to Luke. His entire body fills with desire. He wants nothing more than to make Luke feel amazing. Michael maneuvers them both until Luke is underneath him, and Michael is straddling Luke. Michael grins down at Luke, desire pooling in his belly. It lacks the heat of his rut, but it is still potent. Michael wants Luke, and if he can’t knot Luke, he’ll take Luke any way he can get him.  

“Gonna make you see stars, Lukey,” murmurs Michael. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He ducks down for a kiss. Luke’s lips dance against his. They feel like fire against Michael’s mouth, and Michael gives himself over to the kiss, letting Luke control it even though the alpha inside of Michael’s mind rages against the idea of an omega taking command. He ignores the alpha, drowning it through how good Luke feels underneath his lips.

Eventually, air becomes an issue. Michael wishes he could keep kissing Luke for the rest of forever, but when they break apart, he remembers that he made Luke a promise. More importantly, he remembers that his rut is liable to kick in again at any moment. He can’t take Luke while he is in the throes of his rut, or else he is terrified that he might accidentally hurt Luke, so Michael needs to please Luke now before any danger is a possibility.

Michael kisses his way down Luke’s neck then his chest and his abdomen, all the way to Luke’s cock. Luke’s skin is flushed pink and hot to the touch, a physical sign of his arousal that dispels any doubt that Luke isn’t into this like his dry hole otherwise suggests. Luke writhes underneath Michael’s kisses, his fingers curling into Michael’s hair even before Michael opens his mouth and takes the head of Luke’s cock in.

Luke tastes sweet, like an omega. Michael swipes his tongue across the slit of Luke’s cock, and Luke reacts beautiful, arching his body off the bed like he can’t contain himself. This is only the beginning, but Luke is already too far gone. If he were able to produce it, slick would be pouring from his hole, but it isn’t. What his body doesn’t produce, Luke more than makes up with his mouth, moaning with every flick of Michael’s tongue.

Michael is so aroused by Luke’s pleasure underneath him that he feels the knot at the base of his own cock begin to form once more. For a split second, Michael freezes, terrified that his rut is coming back full-blown, but it isn’t. It is just Michael’s alpha body reacting to the pleasure of his omega, and Michael resumes his ministrations, eager to build Luke up to that beautiful euphoria and taste it as it overflows from Luke.

He takes more of Luke’s cock into his mouth until the tip of it hits the back of his throat. He draws it a deep breath, readying himself, then slowly presses on forward. He doesn’t stop until his nose is pressed flat against Luke’s stomach and he can’t go any farther.

The alpha inside of Michael rebels against the vulnerability of Luke’s cock shoved down his throat, but Michael loves the feel of it. He loves how he can feel Luke shudder inside of him. He loves how Luke’s fingers tangle in his hair, like Luke needs something to anchor himself to this moment.

Luke throws his own head back and moans Michael’s name so beautifully that it sounds forbidden. Michael has to pull off to take a gasping breath. Then he goes back down, and Luke is lost once more. Michael continues in this manner—taking all of Luke then pulling back then taking him all again—in a slow rhythm that spans minutes that feel like hours. Luke falls apart underneath Michael, quivering and moaning Michael’s name as if it is the only thing in the entire world that he knows.

Luke’s omega smell intensifies with his building arousal, but his hole remains dry. Michael senses more than smells or even feels Luke’s climax approaching. He takes Luke all the way down once more. He presses a dry finger against Luke’s equally dry hole with no intentions of breaching Luke but rather just to give Luke the sensation of something against his hole, which Luke had wanted so, so badly before, and that is all it takes for Luke to cry out Michael’s name once more.

Luke comes, and Michael swallows. Luke still tastes deliciously like an omega, despite him not smelling as potent as one should right now in the presence of an alpha in rut. It is disconcerting trying to correlate the omega taste of Luke’s come on Michael’s tongue and the absence of slick dripping from Luke’s hole, even as Michael retracts his hand from Luke’s hole to pat Luke’s chest as he comes down from his high. Michael pulls off Luke’s cock. It shines beautifully with Michael’s saliva, a picture perfect sight of a pleased omega.

The alpha inside of Michael preens in pride. Luke may not smell like Michael for weeks after today, not like Calum will, but Luke certainly won’t forget how well Michael, an alpha, took care of him. That is enough for now.

After his orgasm, Luke trembles with all of the vulnerability of an omega who had been knotted. The alpha inside of Michael rages, demanding Michael take care of Luke, but the alpha is too late. Michael draws Luke into the curve of his body before the alpha finishes screaming in Michael’s mind, and Luke, despite his height, fits so perfectly in Michael’s arms.

Michael brackets his body around Luke like Ashton had earlier, instinctively protecting Luke like an alpha is supposed to protect his omega. It doesn’t matter that Luke isn’t producing slick. Luke is still very much an omega, and the alpha inside of Michael wants to claim Luke as his own. Michael won’t, of course, just like he won’t claim Calum or Ashton today, either, but Michael still blankets Luke in protection in Luke’s post-orgasmic state.

The heat of Michael’s rut is a low simmer in his belly. He is going to need to knot again soon, but it seems, for now, the alpha inside of Michael is satisfied by having taken care of Luke. Michael reaches out for Calum and Ashton. There, unfortunately, isn’t enough of him to hold them all in his arms like he would like, but Calum and Ashton shuffle closer so that Michael can reach across Luke to touch them both, too. It isn’t perfect, but the alpha inside of Michael seems content with just this contact.

Luke curls farther into Michael’s chest, nosing against Michael’s bonding spot where Michael smells the most like an alpha. It is supposed to calm Luke and lull him back to a clear mind, but something inside of Luke fights against the effects. The alpha inside of Michael whines, distressed.

“C’mon, Lukey. I’ve got you,” says Michael. He tightens his hold around Luke, drawing Luke as physically close to him as he can. Still, it doesn’t feel close enough. “Let me take care of you.”

Luke whines in the back of his throat. Calum, sensing something is wrong, scoots closer to Luke until he plasters himself to Luke’s back, and he drags Ashton with him. Together, the three of them envelop Luke in cocoon of protection. Michael smiles at Calum, mutters a _good omega_ that Calum eats up. Calum snuggles even closer to Luke.

Still, Luke is restless between them.

“’m a bad omega,” murmurs Luke.

Michael’s heart leaps to his throat. He had thought he had made it clear to Luke only a few moments ago that Luke was so, so good. The alpha inside of his howls in agony at the idea that Luke—perfect, beautiful _Luke_ —still think he is anything except a good omega. Michael holds Luke even nearer to him.

“No, you’re not,” argues Michael, his voice hoarse.

“I am. I’m not wet. I can’t even take care of you in your rut.”

“But you are taking care of me. See? I’m okay right now, because of you and Cal and Ash.”

“But I’m an omega. You should have knotted me. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“You weren’t wet,” says Michael.

Alphas are supposed to be monsters. Alphas are _lucky_ when an omega voluntarily submits to them, but Michael has heard stories—they all have—of how alphas don’t care whether or not an omega submits voluntarily to them. Alphas are biologically strong enough to take what they want, so if Michael wanted to right now, he could force himself upon Luke.

But the alpha inside of Michael rages at the idea. It snarls against the mere possibility of taking Luke, dry and unprepared, right now. Michael doesn’t know if everybody is wrong about alphas—if all alphas can control themselves around an omega while they’re in rut—or if there is something about him—or maybe it is Luke or maybe it is the four of them together—that makes him stronger than the rest of his kind to resist the sweet temptation of an omega.

Nausea churns in Michael’s stomach, and it only gets worse with Luke’s response.

“It doesn’t matter to some people.”

“That’s sick and wrong,” snarls Michael.

He swallows against the bile that rushes up his throat. The alpha inside of him recoils at the idea of knotting a dry omega. Michael had felt how much Calum’s body had given to him earlier when Michael’s knot had popped inside of Calum’s wet omega hole. He couldn’t imagine what might happen if he were to take Luke right now. Dry and unprepared, Michael is certain he would rip Luke right in two.

“And I won’t knot you if you’re not wet,” adds Michael, vehemently. “That’s your body telling you it isn’t ready. I want you to be ready for me when I do knot you, and I will one day when your body can handle me. Besides, I don’t need to knot you to love you.”

Luke draws in a trembling breath, his entire body shaking in Michael’s arms. He nuzzles even farther underneath Michael’s neck. He presses his nose flat against Michael’s bonding mark. Hot, wet tears spill down his checks until they wet Michael’s skin, too. Again, Michael has the urge to cry, but he blinks back his own tears. Alphas are supposed to be strong.

“I’m useless,” Luke whispers.

The words hit Michael like a sledge hammer. His heart aches in his chest. Calum and Ashton suck in synchronistic gasps, the sounds loaded with agony in the otherwise silent room. Calum’s hand sneak in between Luke and Michael’s body, and he digs his fingers into Luke’s stomach with so much pressure that, on the other side of things, Michael can feel the tension in Calum’s arm. This is Calum comforting Luke. This is Calum being strong for Luke when Luke himself can’t be. This is Calum holding Luke together when he sounds so near to falling apart. This is Calum refusing to cry, too.

“Don’t say that about yourself ever again,” snaps Michael.

He makes it into an Alpha command even though it isn’t fair. It is even less fair for Luke to speak so ill of himself when none of it is true. Luke responds instantly, bowing his head against Michael’s neck in a sign of automatic submission. Michael presses a soft kiss against the top of Luke’s head to soothe Luke after the command. He feels guilty for using it against Luke, but he doesn’t take it back.

“I swear to you that you are perfect to me just as you are,” says Michael, his mouth still pressed against the top of Luke’s head, “and I don’t need to knot you for you to take care of me during my rut.”

“Because you have Calum,” murmurs Luke.

“Because I have all of you,” corrects Michael. “I know this is my first time, and we’ve all heard the stories of how alphas are, and I’m still figuring this out for myself, but the alpha inside of me didn’t want to knot you when you weren’t ready for a knot—it revolted at the idea, even in the midst of everything. It wanted to keep you safe, and so do I.”

Luke is quiet for a second. He relaxes a little in Michael’s arms, falling back into Calum behind him. He draws back from Michael just far enough that he can look up at Michael. His eyes are red with tears, but they are so, so blue, too. When he speaks, though, he sounds like he is beginning to come around to the idea that he isn’t a total failure of an omega.

“I should be taking care of you.”

“You are,” says Michael, breathing a little easier. “You are here in my arms, and the alpha inside of me is satisfied by your presence and by Calum’s and Ashton’s, too.”

Luke sighs. He nods, like he is finally accepting Michael’s promise—like he is finally trusting Michael wholeheartedly like an omega only can with an alpha. Michael knows the alpha command has a little to do with Luke’s acceptance, but he still counts it as a victory.

“Still want your knot,” Luke mutters. He is less argumentative now, his voice taking on a wistful tone. He nuzzles up underneath Michael’s chin again, nosing across Michael’s bonding spot, the tiny patch of skin where Michael smells most like an alpha. “I bet it’s the best thing in the world. Tell me, Cal, is it?”

“Yeah,” answers Calum, immediately. He smiles up at Michael over the top of Luke’s head. Michael has to smile back, the alpha inside of him is proud. “You’d love it.”

“And you’ll get it once your body produces slick,” says Ashton, softly. He continues to look vaguely horrified at Luke’s self-loathing, but Luke has his back to Ashton and doesn’t see the expression on Ashton’s face. It is probably for the best. Luke doesn’t need to consider the insane idea that he is disappointing a beta, too, not so soon after Michael had to use an alpha command on him. “You should probably go to the doctor after Michael’s rut to see what is wrong.”

Michael hums in agreement. Ashton is always the practical one, but he is almost always right, too. Once a doctor figures out why Luke can’t produce slick, then they can figure out how to rectify it. Perhaps it was just a fluke, a one-time hormonal imbalance in Luke’s body that will clear up on its own over the next few weeks. Or perhaps it is as simple as a different prescription. Michael can only hope it could be so easy.

“I already told you. It is probably my pills,” says Luke, shrugging. He hides underneath Michael’s chin. “It does that for some omegas.”

Ashton meets Michael’s eyes over the top of both Luke’s and Calum’s heads. Worry shines plain and clear in Ashton’s eyes. It is almost palpable in the air between them, as it naturally should be. Michael shares in that worry.

“Still, I’d feel much better if you were examined,” says Ashton.

“I would, too,” agrees Michael. He can feel a tinge of restlessness tug in the pit of his stomach, and he knows his rut is about to consume him once more. He is going to need to knot again soon. He only hopes that Calum is enough to sate him so that he doesn’t pose a danger to anybody else, more importantly to Luke. He reminds himself that he should worry so much, because Ashton is here to keep him in check. “And maybe we should see about getting your meds changed. Cal’s pills work fine for him. You want my knot, so yours needs to work fine, too.”

“Yes, _Alpha_ ,” says Luke, smiling into the crook of Michael’s neck.

A surge of protectiveness—of _mine_ —wells up in Michael. He tightens his hold on Luke then moves his other arm to properly wrap Calum as much as he can reach, too. He searches blindly for Ashton’s hand behind Calum. Ashton meets him somewhere in the middle, and Michael holds onto him for dear life.

Maybe it is the emphasis of the title Luke used. Or maybe it is this feeling of the three people he loves the most here in his arms or, at the very least, in his bed as he is in the middle of his rut. Whatever it is, the title of _Alpha_ sounds good, despite Michael’s reservations that alphas are dangerous, and Michael vows to himself to be the best damn _Alpha_ he can be to Luke and Calum and Ashton—if they’ll have him.

But that is a matter for another day.

“Told you that you wouldn’t hurt us,” says Luke, soft and sleepy like he always is when he feels the safest in the world. He nuzzles farther into Michael’s neck like there is nowhere he would rather be.

Around Michael’s wrist is the black bracelet labeling him as an alpha. In the pit of Michael’s stomach, the heat of his rut begins to build once more. The alpha inside of him begins to grow restless, eager to knot an omega again, and Michael knows deep in his heart that they aren’t out of the clear yet. He is an alpha. He is dangerous. He should plea with Ashton to take Luke and Calum far, far away from him before something goes wrong.

“Told you we’d take care of you,” adds Luke, even quieter and softer and sleepier.

And, yeah, Luke did, so Michael hushes the voice inside of his mind urging him to convince the others to leave him with his rut all by himself. They have taken care of him thus far. Surely, they can handle him for the rest of his rut. The alpha inside of him seems satisfied enough by their presence.

“’M glad you didn’t run when I told you to,” admits Michael.

Luke hums, almost half-asleep already, and mutters, barely loud enough for Michael to hear, “Couldn’t have even if I’d wanted, _Alpha_.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://tigerlily-sunshine.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The specific tag for this fic is found [here](https://tigerlily-sunshine.tumblr.com/tagged/In-this-Twilight-how-Dare-you-Speak-of-Grace) on my tumblr.


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